


Royai Week 2016

by aheartmadefullmetal16



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post Promised Day, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aheartmadefullmetal16/pseuds/aheartmadefullmetal16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of seven drabbles for Royai Week 2016. This was my first Royai Week ever and it was absolutely fantastic. I loved seeing all the Royai on my dash on tumblr! These are all set at different points in the canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warmth

The sunlight is streaming through the trees, and Riza walks alone. Dappled light permeates through the gently swaying branches, speckling her skin and hair. Wind teases at the fringe of her short hair, tickling her face and caressing her skin. The air smells clean and smooth, hinting at the turn of the seasons. Despite summer’s quickening arrival, the breeze around her is cool, greeting her as it rushes by. 

Before long Riza comes to their secret place on the edge of the lake, where her favorite sight greets her; Roy is seated on a picnic blanket with his back to her, the wind gently ruffling his dark hair. Joy fills her young heart, and she eagerly quickens her pace to meet him. As a greeting, she passes her hand along his shoulder and kneels next to him. A soft, pleased smile stretches across his face, and he leans over to kiss her gently. She obliges, a laugh bubbling to her lips when they break apart. Riza marvels at how much he’s changed; all those months ago, when he had first arrived at her house, she never would have thought that they would be here, together, just like this. Then again, she considers that she’s changed quite a bit, too. Roy has brought out the best in her- all the qualities she once hid because of fear or otherwise. 

The afternoon passes without a disturbance, and they need not say much to keep each other satisfied. They merely enjoy the silence of the day, and the presence of the other. Eventually she ends up in his arms, her head nestling against his shoulder. He presses his lips to her temple once, twice, three times, and she thinks to herself,  _ How lucky am I?  _ The sun slips behind the horizon, casting its light in pink and orange ribbons across the sky. Riza sinks into his embrace, welcoming his warmth and gentility, relishing the feeling of her skin against his.

Without warning and in a sudden whirlwind the scene changes, and Riza is afraid. She opens her eyes and suddenly everything is different- the trees are gone, the lake is gone, the wind is gone, but he is not. Roy holds her tenderly in his arms, and she’s suddenly aware of the searing pain in her neck. Warm, thick blood is spattered all down her shoulder, and her fingers are slick with it. His hands shake as they clutch her to him with a palpable anxiety, and her fingers grasp for his blindly. Her brown eyes find his dark ones, and when she sees the love they hold, she melts. She dissolves into his embrace, simply trusting him through the haze her current condition presents. 

Later, days after the battle, after everything, she finds herself drifting and dreaming. Goosebumps occasionally erupt all over her skin, only to be immediately soothed by Roy’s fingers, thanks to his renewed sight. The warmth he holds seeps into her veins, into her skin, into her very core, and like all those years ago, she sinks into him as he holds her, warding off the nightmares as they come. Through the fitful nights of sleep in the hospital, they hold each other in the dark after the nurses have gone, breathing perfectly in sync, each thinking,  _ How lucky am I? _


	2. Color

“Are you ready?” Riza’s voice comes from behind him, smooth like always. 

“Almost,” he replies, attaching the cufflinks to his jacket. They hadn’t even left yet, and he was already beginning to sweat under the numerous layers of his formalwear. He envies Riza, who he knows only has a couple layers on at most. He straightens his tie for what seems like the millionth time, and then turns around, tucking it back into his vest. 

The sight that meets him simply floors him, and every single color he’s ever witnessed floods his senses all at once. The dim light inside his apartment only makes his lieutenant look more beautiful; her hair is down tonight, gently curling in waves and pinned in place over one shoulder. The gold of those long locks seems to flow off of her and draw him in, twining around his fingertips, making him long to run his fingers through them. The dress she wears is black, and he knows she had to have it modified to hide the past her back holds. It collects at just the right place of every curve her body has, and the sheen of the fabric glows blue in the quiet light. Roy knows that Riza has never been one for complicated fashion, and this dress is no exception, but the simplicity of it somehow looks more gorgeous than anything else currently catching the eye of East City’s more well off women. 

Too late he notices that his face must be completely slack and ridiculous, but for the moment, he doesn’t care. Riza raises an eyebrow at him, asking, “What?”

He catches himself, shutting his apparently wide open mouth. “Nothing.” His entire body feels like it’s on fire, and he repeatedly clears his throat, attempting to swallow the blush. Roy turns smartly on the spot, fumbling for his keys. “You look very beautiful tonight, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, sir.” He hates that they have to use formalities tonight; if he had his way he would say her name over and over and over again until his mouth ran dry. Nothing he could say could compare to the beauty she possesses, and always for that matter. All he could do was try and press the same color into his voice that emanated effortlessly from her, enticing him and keeping him captive to her without a single thought.


	3. Stars

Riza couldn’t sleep, and that was that. She didn’t know whether it was the stuffy blankets on her bed, or the unfortunate lack of air circulation in her room, but the space around her seemed to stand still, and she couldn’t take it anymore. Impatiently she pushed back the covers, and sighed in relief when a brief reprieve came to her. Before long, though, the air in her room stagnated once more, and that’s when she decided to take a walk. 

As she crept out of her bedroom, she tiptoed past her father’s room. He didn’t like it when she got out of bed in the middle of the night, but Riza was especially prone to midnight strolls in the forest behind their house.  _ What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, _ she thought, trying to calm her electric nerves. Finally, she was able to slip down the stairs unnoticed. She headed for the back door, taking great care to avoid the particularly squeaky floorboards. 

As soon as the back door was closed and she was safely outside, Riza let out a breath of relief. The gentle night breeze left her skin feeling wonderfully cool, gradually unsticking her short hair from the back of her neck. The moon was completely full tonight, and the light it cast illuminated a path for Riza to follow into the dense forest. She had grown up exploring these woods as a child, always on her own while her father shut himself up in his study, scouring his alchemy books with an intensity she could not understand. At one time she had been scared of this forest, but with her exploration came familiarity and a gradual departure of her fear. 

The soft echoes of the night seemed to greet her happily, welcoming her into the fold of greenery. She followed the path she knew best, eagerly awaiting the moment when her secret hideout would appear in front of her. Before her mother had died, this had been their special spot- a small bank along the lake, hidden by a large tree whose branches seemed to reach down like hands. Riza vaguely remembered coming here for afternoon picnics on the days when her father was traveling. Her memories of her mother were slipping, but the memory of serenity by the lake was not one Riza was likely to let go of. 

Lost deep in thought, Riza almost missed the hidden entrance to her little alcove. She shook her head and pushed aside a couple of branches before stopping dead in her tracks.  _ What on earth is  _ he  _ doing here?!  _ A mixture of fear and surprise launched itself into her veins, and immediately her heart started pumping. Her father’s newest apprentice, Mr. Mustang, was sitting there with his back to her, gazing out at the lake. Mr. Mustang had arrived a few days previously, and Riza had already resolved to treat him with the same attitude as she had the others- outward respect, but inward indifference. She had never had any intention of getting close with any of the other apprentices before then; they never lasted for long. Most of the time they didn’t even offer her the simple courtesy of introducing themselves, and Riza had grown to expect it. One thing was different about this boy, though. He had introduced himself, and after returning the favor, she had intended to simply return to her book, but to her surprise he had attempted to further the conversation.  _ I suppose he’ll be a little different, then, _ she had thought. 

Perturbed and annoyed, Riza began to step backwards to go back to the house, but to her horror her foot came down on a twig.  _ Unbelievable, _ she thought angrily, her breath catching as the sound split the air between them. Mr. Mustang whirled around, a fearful look in his eyes, but froze in confusion when he laid eyes on her. He looked like a deer in the headlights, and for some wild reason Riza wanted to laugh at the peculiar expression on his face. “Um…” he stuttered. “Hi?” 

“Mr. Mustang,” she said, formality taking over. She pushed aside the branches once more and sat just beyond them, inside her alcove that he had invaded. “What are you doing here?” It came out a little more invasively than she had intended, and she attempted a smile to soften the bite in her voice. 

“I just.. I was looking for a good place to watch the stars. I can never see them in the city.” Mr. Mustang’s voice was stronger now, and his initial shock seemed to be gone. 

Surprise flooded Riza. She hadn’t expected this boy to be so… open. “Oh,” she replied, rather awkwardly. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked carefully, turning around completely to face her now. 

“No, not at all,” Riza replied, still surprised.  _ Could this get any stranger? _ she thought. Here she was, wandering around in the middle of the night, and who does she find? Mr. Mustang was the last person she would expect to find here; no one knew about this secret bank, not even her father. “How did you find this place?”

His face went pink. “I don’t know, I just sort of stumbled upon it earlier. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to walk around for a bit.” He paused. “I suppose you’ve come here before, then?” 

“Yes,” Riza said simply, not willing to elaborate. If Mr. Mustang noticed her reluctance, he did not acknowledge it, and she thanked him silently. Talking about her mother was never easy for her, and opening up to this strange new boy was certainly not on her to-do list of the healing process. 

“Would you like to sit with me?” Mr. Mustang’s voice was a little nervous. In response, almost before she knew what her legs were doing, Riza walked forward and sat next to him, but left a good five feet between them. She tucked her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.  _ What am I doing?  _ she panicked quietly. Here was a boy she barely knew, sitting in  _ her _ secret place, and she wasn’t objecting his presence. Still, a certain sense of tranquility seemed to flood his surroundings, and Riza was certainly included in the range of that flood.  _ There’s something different about him, for sure, _ she thought.

As the minutes dragged on, the pair was silent, simply gazing out into the water and admiring the view. The stars flickered high above them, and Riza’s sense of apprehension for the boy beside her gradually lessened a little. She knew that the mistrust she had in him would return in the morning, but for now she didn’t care.  _ I guess not every apprentice Father invites is all that bad. _


	4. Forgotten

“Riza, look at this!” Roy calls excitedly, rubbing away the dust on another picture. This one is special; he stands in profile while Riza is next to him, giving orders. He had sent a copy of this one to Edward long ago, after the former alchemist had returned home to Resembool.

His wife looks over, her interest piqued, and smiles when she sees the photograph he’s holding. “I remember that. Wasn’t that just before the peace negotiations with Ishval?” 

“Yes,” he replies, “I remember that day well. That was probably the most nerve-wracking day of my life- trying to talk to the people whose lives I had helped ruin.” Though his conversation topic was heavier than he himself was, he refused to let it drag him down; goodness knows he’d done enough of that during the war. He turns back to the boxes surrounding him and continues to sift through the pictures.

They were packing up their apartment and preparing to move into the Fuhrer’s estate; Roy had finally been elected a few days before. Roy and Riza had protested living in the estate, for they had all they needed here, but tradition was tradition and Central’s older lawmakers were extremely stubborn. So, with reluctance, they had begun to pack up what little belongings they had. 

“What’s this?” Riza’s voice behind him is bewildered, yet playful, and he is slightly afraid. To Roy’s horror, she holds a picture he wishes in that moment he had never saved. 

“Oh, no, I had forgotten about that,” he mumbles, his face beginning to burn. He leans over the pile of pictures and clothes to try and take it from her, but the picture dances out of his grasp, remaining in Riza’s fingers. A sly smirk is making its way across her face, which only makes his cheeks burn harder. “Riza, please, give it back-”

“Why should I?” she laughs. “You were so precious!” The smirk is now replaced by her dazzling smile, and it becomes a speck of consolation in his otherwise extremely embarrassed mind. She gazes at the old photo with a fondness, and Roy is frustrated with himself for loving it. The picture is one from ages and ages ago, before he apprenticed with Master Hawkeye. His “sisters” had insisted on giving him a makeover and painting his nails, and he had only obliged because he had been five at the time and hadn’t known any better. Alice had snapped a picture, and had stuck it on his dresser, too high for him to reach. Sentiment had prevented him from throwing it away, but now he regretted it. 

“All right, come on, give it back,” he laughs, reaching for her once more. She lunges out of his reach, and he promptly loses his balance, scattering the piles of clothes and photos as his torso collides with them. His wife laughs gleefully and he does too as he locks his fingers around her ankle, earning him a rare giggle. Roy hauls himself over the haphazard heap, diving for Riza, going straight for her stomach where he knows she is the most ticklish. A fierce tickle fight ensues, the both of them laughing breathlessly, neither truly winning. The laughter makes Roy’s sides hurt, and soon his old wound begins to flare up. He gives in, letting Riza win, and holds her close, the both of them lying amongst the now completely disorganized piles. For a moment, he simply gazes at her, that huge smile he knows and loves stretching across her face, and is amazed at how long they’ve been together. Through the years, as wrinkles and stray gray hairs have begun to show, he has always marveled at how ageless and absolutely beautiful his wife remains to be. The first day he met her, though he wouldn’t have admitted it at the time, he was astonished at how pretty his teacher’s daughter was. And from then on, those sentiments had never changed. 

“What’s got you so deep in thought?” Riza asks as she strokes his pitch-black hair out of his eyes. 

His thoughts calm and slow under her touch, and he replies, “Nothing. I’m just admiring how gorgeous you still are. These photos don’t do you justice.” Roy’s voice is quiet, soft, inviting, but Riza merely rolls those wonderful whiskey-brown eyes, smiling in exasperation. 

“You’re impossible,” she says, snuggling closer to him to press her lips to his. 

His only response is to hum in agreement and hold her tighter.


	5. Music

_ How perfect is this?  _ Roy thinks as he holds Riza in his arms. The band is playing something slow, and they rock back and forth to the music with perfect synchronicity, feeling each other’s breaths, and refusing to let go. Roy knows that around him, people are staring, but for once, he doesn’t care. This is his and Riza’s night. It’s just for the two of them. 

Riza’s soft hair presses against his cheek- she is standing with her right arm wrapped around his waist, her left hand in his right, and her head pressed against his collarbone. Roy stands with his left arm wrapped around her waist, his right hand in her left, and his face pressing against her forehead. Nothing in the world could compare to holding the love of his life in his arms.

In another time, Roy supposes he would have been embarrassed to admit to himself so freely what Riza was to him. But today was different. He remembers the way she looked at him when the priest had bound their hands with a white ribbon and declared them to be husband and wife. He remembers the way he felt when she first appeared at the end of the aisle, and how the tears had immediately sprung to his eyes, despite his efforts. She was so beautiful, and he still couldn’t believe that she was his. 

“Roy?” Riza asks, and he adores the way his name sounds in her voice. No more “sir” or “lieutenant” or “colonel”. It would always, always be “Roy” and “Riza” from now on. 

“Yes, Riza?” 

“Are we dreaming?” He senses the vulnerability behind her voice, and the band plays a swelling chorus, synchronizing with her words. 

“How can this be a dream?” Roy marvels to her. “We’ve worked so hard and for so long- how can this not be real?”

Satisfied, Riza relaxes back into his embrace, pressing a kiss to his collarbone where it curves in the hollow of his throat. 

The band continues playing, and Roy doesn’t know much about music, but in his humble opinion the finesse and precision they play with is the finest he’s ever heard. They dance into the night, and time seems to slip away from them. Roy closes his eyes and sinks into the feeling of her against him. She is undoubtedly his home- wherever she is, he feels rooted and solid when he is with her. It didn’t matter where they were- East City or Central- she would always be his security, his soul, his life. They did not need words to express the expansive affection they had for one another; it was simply always known, always understood whenever they looked at each other. 

Roy opens his eyes, and is surprised to find that his surroundings are different, and that there are tears streaming down his face. He stares up at the wood paneling of the ceiling in Riza’s apartment, noting the sudden silence, and a glorious mixture of dread and bittersweet love swells inside of him. Next to him, his lieutenant stirs, and immediately asks, “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“It was just a dream,” he replies. “One I very much wish was real.”


	6. Ignite

As the flames begin to grow, Riza watches Roy smile in satisfaction and return to her from the fireplace. Her apartment is now filled with a orangey glow that paints glares on the windows and warms up her freezing extremities. Even beneath a blanket, and clad in the fuzziest socks she could find, she was still shivering. Luckily for her, a certain Flame Alchemist had decided to stay the night. 

Roy settles in beside her, putting an arm behind her head. She leans into him, and sighs contentedly as his warmth seeps into her veins, defrosting her fingers and toes. Riza knows that nights like these are extremely dangerous, and that they are risking everything by staying with one another, but she does not care. Despite the apprehension that seems to lurk in her peripherals, she does her best to relax and enjoy the time she gets to spend with Roy. 

“Roy,” she starts, “how do you ignore that constant feeling of danger whenever we’re together like this?”

Next to her, he stiffens, surprised. “Well, I suppose I just… look forward to the future,” he begins hesitantly. “Our future, in particular. It’s silly, but part of me still hopes that the anti-fraternization laws will be abolished, or even just amended one day.” He pauses, and she knows he is waiting for her reaction and crafting his responses carefully. It’s not like they hadn’t ever talked about it before, but Riza was surprised he was bringing it up now; it had been a while. Just as when they were young, their relationship was no question. It was obvious what they meant to each other, and neither of them ever felt the need to restate that. For them, the anti-fraternization laws had always been warning fires that they constantly fanned. They had grown used to it, but part of them always felt like every meeting would ignite an uncontrollable blaze that neither of them would be able to extinguish. One day they were going to get caught, and even the renowned Flame Alchemist would not be able to control the resulting inferno.

Riza considers all of this for a moment, until she feels Roy’s growing nervousness at waiting for her response. “I suppose that works,” she says. “But, Roy, it’s a very large possibility that those laws will never be changed. What then? Do we go on skirting around the inevitable for the rest of our lives?” She hates herself for the disappointment she’s causing him, but then again, she’s always been the more realistic of the two. 

“I know you’re right, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Roy replies, snuggling closer to her. “Let’s just… forget about all of that for right now. Right now it’s just you and me. No laws. No military. Just the two of us.” She’s so tempted to let his words win her over and surrender to the alternate reality he is creating for them.  _ Is this a game I want to play?  _ she thinks as he wraps his arms around her. 

Riza considers her options. Then, “Believe me, Roy, I want nothing more than to just relax and be with you, but… I really think we should consider this seriously.” She hates shooting him down like this, but it has to be done. Roy is the smartest man she knows, but even he falls to his own faults. 

Roy sighs and unravels himself from her to face her on the couch. She turns to him, drawing her legs in to sit criss-cross style. He takes her hands in his, and presses her knuckles to his lips, warming her fingers instantly. In that moment all she wants to do is surrender all her fears and just be with him, but they could not keep ignoring this conversation any longer. “Scenario one,” she begins. “The anti-fraternization laws continue to be in existence for the rest of our careers, and we can’t marry until we retire. Which isn’t likely to be anytime soon if you become Fuhrer.” Saying the word ‘marry’ makes Riza’s heart clench painfully; she had never fully admitted it to herself but that was all she wanted for the two of them. For so long she had gotten by on the notion that they already acted like they were married when they were alone, but getting to act like that all the time would be incredibly liberating. 

“Scenario two: the laws are abolished or amended and we can marry as soon as we like, but it hinders your path to become Fuhrer.” When he opens his mouth to protest, she continues. “I know that you would try your hardest to balance everything, but it just wouldn’t be possible. Especially if…” At her next thought, her cheeks turn red. As a child she had never considered having children of her own, but now that it was a very real possibility for her future, she had been thinking about it more and more. “Especially if we start a family.”

What Roy does next stuns her. He looks startled, and considers this for a moment. Then, “Riza, I…” He pauses. “You would still want a family with me? After everything we’ve done? After everything  _ I’ve  _ done?” His voice is small, and it takes all of her willpower to keep her eyes from stinging. Instead, she removes her hands from his, and places them on either side of his face. 

“Roy.” Her voice is firm, unyielding. “ _ Yes. _ You know as well as I do that we only did those things because we  _ had _ to. We can’t change what we did.” She swallows. Usually Roy was the one doing the comforting; this role reversal was nerve wracking for her. “We’ve been fighting to rectify our mistakes for so long now. Don’t you think it’s time for something good to happen?” In that moment she understands exactly what Roy is feeling.  _ That’s the whole point of what he’s saying, _ she realizes. For a moment she feels ridiculous, and even angry that she didn’t immediately understand, but she brushes it away. 

“Looks like you’ve caught on,” Roy says, a smile beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. His fingers ghost along hers, and then slowly remove them from his face. Twining his fingers through hers, he continues. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, Riza.”

“Ah,” she replies. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand. I assumed I would, just because of how long we’ve been together.” A brief flash of shame makes its way through her, but she banishes it as quickly as she can.

The laugh she knows and loves rolls from his mouth, and she smiles. “It’s all right, Riza.”

She cuddles back into him, leaning forwards so that she lays next to him with her head on his chest. Riza knows that they are back to fanning the flames, but for now, she does not care. For now, it’s just the two of them. No laws. No military. Just a woman in the fuzziest socks she could find resting in the arms of the man she loves more than anything. 


	7. Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for Day 7 of Royai Week, and also for Royai Day. The theme for Royai Day was "Even Into Hell"

Sometimes, when Roy Mustang lets his mind wander, he considers the many, many choices he has made regarding Riza Hawkeye. Snippets of conversations held long ago traverse through his head, hiking through the mental debris and winding passageways of his brain:  _ “You don’t have to call me Mr. Mustang- you can call me Roy, if you want.” “Can I kiss you?” “I’ll come back, don’t worry.” “Hey, no worries, we’ll get you all patched up in no time.” “Are you really willing to let me use your father’s research?” “I promise, you’ll never have to give your secrets to anyone ever again.” “I can’t afford to lose you.”  _ When he thinks of these, his heart clenches, and he wants nothing more than to hold his wife in his arms and never let go. 

He remembers her eyes most of all- blazing, brown, beautiful. He had always known if she was sure about something by looking into those eyes. In Ishval, when the exhaustion and regret had been clouding both their eyes and weighing them down like lead, the echo of that blaze and surety was still there. The day she had begged him to burn the secrets from her back, her eyes were still bright and absolutely certain. Later, after the dust had cleared and the bodies had rotted, she had come to his office in East City, hair still cut short, pale skin now covered in scars, and insisted that she become his bodyguard and subordinate. Roy knew the second Riza stepped in that she was confident that she would get her way. Those brown eyes, full of determination and undeniable security, bored deep into his soul and always watched him, no matter where he went.  _ “Will you follow me?” “Understood. If that is your wish, then even into hell.” _

Every mission, every day spent in the office, every night in each other’s arms, they had always watched each other. It seemed as though, after all these years, they had acquired some sort of sixth sense for one another. They always moved in tandem, in perfect synchronization that no other member of their team could ever hope to replicate or understand. They did not need words to say what they needed from the other, whether it was safety, backup, cooperation, or just comfort. After the first few years together, the other men in the office had learned that Roy and Riza were inseparable, whether the two of them were willing to admit it or not. And in the dark evenings where the nightmares would come in all their fury, they would hold each other, murmuring things in the silence to calm one another. 

He knows with a certainty that she has changed his life permanently. Every time he looked at her, he saw how far he had come, but more importantly, how far  _ they _ had come. He remembers the first time they had ever seen one another on that first day in Master Hawkeye’s house. Roy had known almost instantly that she was different. There was no denying it. He’d never seen eyes that were more full of fire, full of an intensity he could not yet comprehend. But he had stuck with her, determined to bring her out of her meticulously constructed shell. And he had succeeded. He remembered the night they spent under the stars in Riza’s secret place, where he had kissed her for the first time. That was a moment he would never forget. From then on, they had been devoted to one another, even during his stretch in the military academy and in Ishval when they had lost contact. Roy had been delighted to discover that she still felt the same way, even after all those years. 

Still, they’d had their arguments, though they were few and far between. Every couple had them.  _ Using that word is strange,  _ Roy thinks. Any word that they would use to describe their relationship had always seemed stilted, uncomfortable, inadequate. They were more than a couple, or boyfriend and girlfriend, or even just husband and wife once the fraternization laws were abolished. The closest word Roy had ever come up with was soulmate. And in a world where souls could be bound to suits of armor and cities full of souls could disappear overnight, it seemed to be the closest thing to adequate.

Every choice he had made ever since she became his subordinate had involved her in some way. A sudden ache radiates through his left side; this was common now in his old age. He remembers reducing the homunculus Lust to a mere pile of ashes as Alphonse had shielded Riza behind his alchemy-created wall. Roy remembers Riza’s voice screaming his rank, begging him to stop. He remembers the way she had knelt over him, tears in her eyes, that light he knew and loved slowly returning. But most of all, he remembers the rage and cold focus that had flooded through his veins, seeping through his fingers with the blazing inferno he controlled. That feeling had infused him with all the angry serenity and rushing blood of a madman.  _ Never again, _ he had sworn when he woke up the next morning in the hospital. But he had been wrong.

When he thinks of the Promised Day, all he can see in his mind is red and black. So much of that day was coated in a film of undulating red and smoky black- blood and blindness. Occasionally a speck of green bleeds through but is quickly extinguished by the roaring maw of hatred and rage he feels. Roy hates that he had stood on the very edge of insanity, of being lost forever. He had willingly stepped to that edge, his fate hanging in the balance of one simple snap of his fingers, or the easy trigger-pull of his lieutenant’s. He can recall the splintering agony of a surge of blue washing through his pain soaked veins and arteries, bringing him back from that dangerously spinning cliff. His lieutenant’s words had caused that surge-  _ “This fight will be my last. Once all of this is over, I’m going to end my life, and remove my secrets of Flame Alchemy from the world.”  _ She had taunted him, for the first time. She had never hung those words over his head before. Their implication haunted him to this day-  _ “I should have never trusted you with this. You are becoming exactly the monster we have feared all these years. You have no right to be Fuhrer.” _

She was truly his better half. Riza had always held him down to earth when his aspirations had flown sky high. There is absolutely no way that he would have turned out as good a man as he did without her. She was his light, his security, his very soul. He knows that he would at least be able to function if she were taken from his side, but he would always much rather have her there. She was his mirror, his other half. As he remembers the rush of clarity she had brought him in his very worst moments, he  _ knows _ that she is the only reason he reached his goal.

So as he gazes over her funeral pyre, filled with longing and sadness, he concludes,  _ Without her, nothing would have been the same.  _


End file.
